


If I Scare You, Will You Run?

by susiephalange



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Fluff, gender neutral reader, mutant!reader, pronouns are they/them and mx, rough childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 12:09:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6906250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiephalange/pseuds/susiephalange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader has finally found a place they fit in at the school for gifted youngsters. When Victor is taken in, reforming for his history, they are drawn together; and maybe that's for the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Scare You, Will You Run?

When most mutants are initiated into the X Mansion, they come in through admission to the school, or at most, as a rescue mission from the team. You, however, were a surprising case which astounded the team.

It had began with your parent's abhorrence to your mutation - you could speak to animals, and often calmed them. Which led to them being friendly, and even play with you.

This was good when it was at a dog park, or visiting the cat lady who lived next door.

But there had been the case at the zoo; where one white spotted leopard was agitated from a chattering of school children nattering it to display dominance. They had been banging the glass, throwing in rubbish.

Long story short, you managed to speak to it, and it retreated into its den for a nap, much to the children's, zoo keeper's and your parent's horror.

It was unnatural, they said.

It was frightening, they said.

It was also how you were abducted by a radical mutant group, shipped over many boarders, ran away from their cult, mugged, were homeless for three years, taken in by the wolves, and found yourself having walked thousands of miles, following pure instinct to knock on the door of the school.

Begging for asylum.

So, naturally, you began once over. And thusly, to everyone: labeled: the strange one.

Your friends were few and far between, and grew stronger over time. The girl who could walk through walls, Kitty Pryde (who was so nice to you, you nearly couldn't understand her kindness), and the gritty veteran, Logan Howlett, the Wolverine; your mutant abilities really tapped into his rage, to help him find a way out from rampage.

That was it. Your friends were a cheerful prep and a grumpy teacher. But since arriving at the school, your life had improved vastly; you were finally fitting in (to a degree), had a roof over your head, and it all seemed perfect.

It was then the brother of Wolverine appeared.

Professor Xavier said he was here for a rescue; his alliance with the chaotic neutral Magneto hadn't worked as well as he had hoped, and now, was lying in a cell under the school.

Well, that's what you heard from a rumor Piotr was telling Warren. Others had caught wind of the story, and now you weren't sure what was true; was Sabertooth really naked / wearing nothing but a tea towel / a stolen boutique pink 80's power suit under the school? Most likely not.

But it were these untruths and tall tales which led you skipping American History (it's not like Logan cared anyone were missing. Less papers for him to grade) and sneaking down.

What if he's really what they all say? That voice in your head intruded. A monster past saving. Didn't you hear he was more animal than human? Covered in hair and teeth longer than your fingers?

"Welcome Mx _______ _________," the computerised voice echoed as the elevator deposited you down below.

"This is it," you whisper. You wonder if you could speak to Sabertooth like you could to his brother. "Holy cannoli," you breathe.

There before you, is a clear cell. That's it - it's thick plexiglass on his side, and real, and thick glass on yours. In all, it must be nearly eight inches thick. The person inside is distorted from the protective glass, but you can still see a muscle-bulky man with sideburns of fury, a torn leather jacket and jeans, and long fingernails that mimic a beast.

No teeth. No wild hair that resembled a museum, animal Sabertooth. 

"What's a little person like you doing in a place like this?" His voice is a grating lull, like a panther to its prey.

"I live here," you tell him.

You're going to be brave, you decide. 

"Down here? What, you a freak like us?" You weren't sure if there was curiosity in his voice. "Don't look it."

You're in front of the most terrifying thing you've ever heard of, and you had lived with the threat of bears while being a homeless surrogate wolf, you remind yourself. If you could face a brown bear and calm its rage, you're sure you can help a man in desperate need for a pedicure won't be too hard.

"I heard that you're the brother of Wolverine," you tell him. "Logan. He doesn't much like speaking about you," you tell him. "So, what about you? You must be so tired of me, speaking -,"

He laughs. "Yes."

You beam. "Well, I don't want to not speak. It comes naturally to just let it all out."

"Words or other things?" Sabertooth huffs. You're not sure if it's a curt laugh he had just made, or not.

You can't help but chuckle. "I think we are going to get along really well."

You were right. After then, it sort of fast-forwarded; months were like minutes as they flew by. As soon as Sabertooth - just call me Victor, it's less a mouthful! - was released into the school, he was on watch from the Professor, and Ororo and Logan of course, but also you. You'd graduated now, and after a fitful bout of begging Charles, you'd become a sort of guidance councillor.

You let Pietro Maximoff walk out, glad he'd opened finally about his home life. He was a tough cookie to crack, but now you had an idea of how to help him. You were sliding his manilla folder away just as there was another knock at the door.

"You busy?"

You turn sharply, and not even before your heart stopped racing, you beam. "Vic! Come in. I've got a spare hour for you. What can I do you for?"

The hunkering ex-bad guy slid into the little purple chairs for the people you suss out the psyche of, and sighed.

"Why are you so nice to me?" His lips barely moved, his voice only a whisper.

Your heart wrenched at his words, eyes threatening tears. Those words; they hit home. Why are you nice to him? Your subconscious asked. Because I know a little about being not wanted. Abandoning your allocated post behind the desk, you rushed around and buried your head against Vic's neck, arms around his shoulders.

"Why? I'm just some guy who's killed more openly and more people than my age. And I'm pretty old. I've got nothing good to my name and you're -,"

You couldn't hear him talk like this any more. Slowly, you felt your mutation kick in; releasing a calm pheromone.

"Vic, don't talk like that," your lip wobbles. "You're not worth nothing. You're one of the funniest guys I know! And I've been around plenty of guys."

He huffed, tightening his grip with your embrace. "You're just sayin' that."

"No," you breathe. "No, I'm not just saying. I know what it's like to feel like an outsider. Every damn student here feels that, because of something they're born with. That the humans can't cope with."

It was then you felt another wave of your mutation flow out, and Vic's heartbeat calm down to a steady beat.

"We aren't judged on past actions, you know." You tell him. "Just what we choose to do in moments moving forward."

Maybe it was the proximity you had to the emotional man, or the fact you had known him for a year now, and that four days prior had been your two anniversary of finding the school, but you felt something move you. Something that nearly possessed you to edge away from his neck, and guide your lips to his.

"What did the coyote tell the moon?" You whispered.

"If I scare you, will you run?"

You withdrew, searching his eyes with your own. He seemed so scared, so sad, so broken. You know you can't fix a broken man. Nobody can but the casualty. Everyone else just helps.

"Maybe," you reply. "But the moon will always be there for the coyote. Always in his orbit. Waiting." You brush your lips against Vic's, and add quietly, "and there's nothing he can do will change that."

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any requests, find me on Tumblr at @susiephalange, or [@phalangewrites](https://phalangewrites.tumblr.com/request_conditions) ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


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